


Separated

by WayWardWonderer



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Alone, Blaze - Freeform, Fire, Gen, Hotel, Hurt, Isolated, Lost - Freeform, Stranded, Wounded, building, injured, structure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayWardWonderer/pseuds/WayWardWonderer
Summary: During a hotel fire the crew of Station 51 gets separated and trapped inside the burning building as an explosion erupts. Isolation and injuries only add to their perilous predicament as time runs out for five of the six firefighters still inside the smoldering, collapsing structure. The waiting at the hospital proves to be just as strenuous as the fire itself.





	Separated

The acrid smoke stung at his eyes and ached at his lungs as he slowly regained consciousness. Johnny Gage felt a heavy weight pressing against his chest and arms. Looking down through his cracked, smudged face mask he could see the outline of a large, burnt wooden beam laying across his body. Unable to call out and unable to reach his H.T., Johnny was trapped and alone in the hallway of the crumbling old hotel.

Mustering as much strength as he had left, Johnny slowly turned to his side and used his forearms to push the smoldering wooden beam off his chest and onto the floor beside him. Without the weight crushing his chest Johnny was able to take in a full, much needed breath of fresh air from his steadily emptying air tank.

Pushing himself upright, he sat in a kneeling position in the hallway. Johnny looked around for any sign of his partner but he was alone.

Where he last saw Roy DeSoto standing was now a large hole in the center of the warped floor.

* * *

His ears were ringing and his head was throbbing. Captain Hank Stanley felt someone putting their hand on his shoulder and he could hear a muffled voice calling his name. He opened one eye and his blurry vision slowly focused on the face of Chief McConike.

"Hank? Are you alright?!" Chief McConike repeated to the downed man.

"Fine." Hank lied as he tried to get to his feet, his world still spinning. "I'm okay."

"Easy Hank, don't move." McConike insisted. "That blast knocked you back a good five feet and sent your helmet even further!"

It was then Hank realized how much his head actually hurt. He pressed the palm of his hand to the back of his head and felt that his dark hair was matted with blood. As he retracted his hand McConike noticed the blood and waved over another firefighter; Captain Stone. "We need a medic here, where's the nearest squad?"

"Squad 51 was inside the hotel when it exploded, and Brice and Bellingham are treating a smoke inhalation victim on the other side."

Hank's eyes widened. He remembered everything now. The call, the fire, the explosion... His men were all inside the building when the main gas line ruptured. He looked up at the charred, smoldering, smoke engulfed structure that was once a grand hotel. Instinctively he unhooked the H.T. from his belt and called for an update. "Station 51, Squad 51; I need an update."

Silence.

"I repeat; Station 51, Squad 51; I need an update on your location."

The radio remained silent.

"Damn it! I need to get in there."

"No you don't." McConike prevented Hank from standing up. "You're injured, let Station 8 find your men. Keep trying on the H.T., maybe the explosion is causing some kind of interference."

Hank knew that McConike was pandering to him, trying to keep him from thinking the worst, but it wasn't enough. His head hurt too much for him to move and the last thing he wanted was to collapse inside the building while his own men were already M.I.A.

Reluctantly he submitted to his Chief's order and continued to try and raise someone, anyone, on the H.T.

"Station 51, Squad 51; do you read?"

* * *

A sharp pain in his ankle was all Chet Kelley needed to feel to know that it was broken. He sat upright, pulling himself out from the burnt plaster, drywall and glass shards that littered the room he had been clearing when the explosion occurred. The blast must've sent him flying and he landed on his leg wrong.

"M-Marco?" Chet coughed as he called for his partner. "Marco? Can you hear me?"

On the other side of the room Marco Lopez was laying unconscious under a larger portion of the collapsed ceiling. He didn't hear Chet calling his name and he didn't feel the flames encroaching ever closer to his downed form.

"Marco? Where are you?" Chet managed to pull himself up and to his feet. He took off his mask and used the sleeve of his turnout to wipe away the smoky film that was obstructing his sight. It was then he caught sight of a figure laying under some debris on the other side of the room.

"Marco!"

Chet hobbled over to his downed colleague and quickly beat out the flames with his gloved hands before they could ignite Marco's clothing. He pushed away large chunks of the debris until he could see Marco's bloody face.

"Marco...?" He ungloved one hand and pressed it against Marco's neck. He found the pulse. "C'mon man! We need to get out of here!"

* * *

Mike Stoker, who had been manning the hose on the first floor of the hotel, coughed heavily as he pushed open the broken doors that lead out of the stairwell. The explosion came from the basement and up through the elevator shafts. The force of the explosion was enough to knock Mike through the doors and into the stairwell.

Mike scanned the lobby carefully, looking for any sign of victims or his crew, but found he was alone. A small trickle of blood was rolling down his face from his brow and could taste the blood on his lips. His lower back ached from landing on the hard stairs, but other than his bumps and bruises he was miraculously uninjured.

He grabbed his H.T. and tried to make contact with the outside world, but the H.T. had been badly damaged from the impact of his landing. Following the hose on the floor, Mike located the doors leading outside of the hotel and propped the large doors wide open.

Mike knew he wasn't the only one who was shaken by the blast, and he wasn't about to the leave the hotel alone.

* * *

 

Johnny forced himself to stand up, his arm wrapped protectively around his aching chest. Moving carefully and slowly he approached the massive opening the floor. The hole was caused by the fire weakening the supports beneath, allowing any weight above to break through with little warning.

Slipping his mask away from his face Johnny coughed a few times through the billowing smoke as he called out for his partner. "Roy?! Roy, can you hear me?"

There was no reply from the gaping hole in the floor.

Kneeling down Johnny struggled to peer into the the hole through the smoke. "Roy? Roy, where are you?"

There was still no reply.

Johnny put his mask back on over his face and took in a few breaths of needed air. The protective shielding of his face mask was smudged with smoke and ash, making it even more difficult for the seasoned paramedic to see. Wiping away the obstruction on the mask Johnny was able to look down into the smoky opening without any discomfort to his eyes.

Finally able to get a good look through the hole to the floor below Johnny caught a glimpse of something that made his heart sink. At the bottom of the hole, laying on his back, was Roy DeSoto.

"Roy!" Johnny called out again, the protective mask muffling his voice. "Roy, can you hear me?! Roy!"

Roy didn't move. He was unconscious, laying on top of a mass of broken support beams and covered in ash.

"Roy, if you can hear me don't move! I'm going to get to you!"

Johnny stood up slowly again, trying to keep himself from exacerbating his injured chest. Grabbing his H.T. from his belt Johnny walked down the hallway to the stairwell at the end. Clicking on his H.T. he tried to make contact with anyone who might be listening. "Squad 51; requesting assistance on the eight floor. Possible Code-I." He waited for a response but didn't receive any confirmation. "Repeat: Squad 51; requesting assistance on the eight floor. Possible Code-I." Just as before the only answer from the radio was static. "Damn thing, must've been broken in the blast..."

Clipping the H.T. back onto his belt Johnny found his way to the door leading to the stairwell. Ungloving his hand Johnny pressed it against the door and didn't feel any heat radiating from the other side. Slipping the glove back on he pushed open the door and was greeted with a massive cloud of black smoke that wisped up from the stairs and onto the ninth floor.

Stepping onto the darkened stairs Johnny used his hand to guide him along the wall as he carefully walked through the many splintered off remains of the hotel's support beams from the ceiling above. The steps of the stairs were beginning to warp from the incredible heat produced fire still burning somewhere in the building. Ash and embers swirled in the air like an ethereal storm from Hell itself. The smell of burned wood, plaster, plastic and ozone nearly overwhelmed Johnny as he made the long, eerie journey down the stairs to the eighth floor.

"Roy?" Johnny continued to call for his partner, hoping that Roy would somehow be able to hear him. "Roy, I'm almost there!"

Finding the door that lead from the stairwell to the eighth floor Johnny ungloved his hand once again to check the door. It was cool. As he tried to pull the door open he felt the indescribable urge to run. Using pure adrenaline he pulled the door open and practically dove through the opening just as the floor above caved in and collapsed into the stairwell behind him.

"Aw man, we need to get out of here!" Johnny commented as he awkwardly pushed himself up from the ground, almost regretting his dive for safety. The hard impact on the ground made the pain in his chest flare up with an intense pain. "Roy?" Johnny stood up and leaned against the wall as he scanned the floor, trying to get his bearings. "Roy?"

Down the hallway, opposite from where Johnny had entered, he caught a glimpse of light glowing through the hole in the ceiling. The hole that Roy had fallen through. "Roy!"

Moving cautiously, minding his surroundings and listening for any sign of possible further collapse, Johnny trekked over to where his partner was still laying, unconscious. Johnny took off his glove for the third time, slipping it into his pocket, and pressed his fingers against Roy's neck. There was a pulse but his breathing was labored.

"Roy?" Johnny slipped off Roy's mask and patted his face to try and get a response. "Roy, open your eyes. Come on, open your eyes!"

Roy didn't budge.

"Okay, take it easy. I'll get us both out of here. Then you HAVE to open your eyes, deal?" Johnny continued talking to Roy, hoping that his voice would be enough to keep Roy alive.

Using his hands Johnny checked Roy's neck for any sign of injury, but miraculously despite the fall, Roy's neck wasn't damaged. Neither was his spine. He had a large gash on his forehead above his left eye. The gash extended down the length of his face near his jaw, covering his face and neck in blood. Johnny checked Roy's arms and found that his right shoulder had been dislocated during the fall. Fortunately Roy managed to avoid any other obvious breaks or fractures to his legs.

"Come on Roy," Johnny encouraged as he carefully bent down to put Roy over his shoulder. "let's move."

It was difficult and painful but Johnny managed to lift his downed partner up from the smoldering ground and over his shoulders.

Returning to the stairwell from whence he came Johnny prepared to make the long walk down the eight floors to the exit of the hotel.

* * *

 

Outside the smoldering structure that was once a magnificent old hotel Captain Hank Stanley sat on the rear bumper of the Squad with Captain Stone hovering nearby. With his H.T. still in hand Hank continued to try and make contact with his men still inside the labyrinthine ruins of the burning hotel. "Station 51, Squad 51; what is your current status?"

Still no answer from the other end of the radio, only static.

"I repeat: Station 51, Squad 51; what is your current status?" More static. "Damn..." He put the H.T. in his coat pocket and sighed heavily.

Captain Stone was pressing a white bandage to the bloody bump on the back of Hank's head. "Take it easy Hank, they'll find their way out. You have a great crew under you."

"Yeah, I know." Hank reached for the bandage pressing against his head. "I just hate having to wait outside, not knowing what's going on."

"Well, it's better that you stay out here," Stone pushed Hank's hand back as he removed the now bloody bandage and carefully began looking through Hank's matted down hair to find the source of the bleeding. "if that blast concussed you then you'd be in twice as much trouble."

Hank looked up at the burning hotel. The windows on the lower floors had been broken out from the extreme heat of the fire, or from the escaping guests. Smoke poured through the shattered openings and billowed upward into the painfully beautiful blue sky above. Flames crawled through the opened windows and through the roof of the building, causing embers and ash to snow down to the street below. A fine layer of soot covered the pavement nearby emergency vehicles in a somber gray powder.

Chief McConike approached the Squad and put his hand on Hank's shoulder. "How ya' holdin' up, Hank?"

"I'm alright, Chief. Just a little bruised." Hank tried to sound alert.

Stone added in his own opinion on the matter. "More like a little bloody and dazed."

McConike trusted Stone's assessment on Hank, seeing as Stone himself was once a paramedic. "Concussion?"

"Looks likely. I won't know for sure unless Hank here cooperates and let's me examine him, or until Brice and Bellingham are are available."

Hank had his own option he wanted to throw in. "Or I wait until my paramedics clear the building. Then I'll relax."

"Stone," McConike continued. "there was an interior collapse about two minutes ago. It was on the ninth or tenth floor."

"Any confirmed casualties?" Stone hated himself for asking the very necessary question, knowing that Hank was already on edge.

"Not yet. The hotel manager confirmed the entire building had been successfully evacuated. All guests accounted for, those who were injured are being treated."

"And I take it all employees escaped as well?"

"Yeah, looks like the only people left inside the hotel are the very people who're trained to deal with this kind of situation."

"That's good. Want me to send in a small party to locate 51?"

"Negative. The building is too unstable to salvage. No one goes in." McConike could see the worry in Hank's tired eyes. "And I know everyone will get out."

Stone put his hand on Hank's arm. "C'mon Hank, let's get you patched up. The last thing you need is a bunch of ash giving you an infection."

Hank tried to resist. "No, I'm not going-"

"You're not going to do anyone any good if you work yourself into exhaustion or collapse. You're hurt, let us help you." Stone empathized with Hank's concern but his previous training as a paramedic was kicking into overdrive.

"What would you do if your men were stuck inside an inferno?"

"Honestly?" Stone continued to pull Hank up from the bumper of the Squad and lead him to where Brice and Bellingham were still treating a few smoke inhalation victims. "I'd probably be just as worried and stubborn as you. Probably."

"Thanks Stone." Hank understood what his fellow captain was trying to do and appreciated the effort. "But that doesn't make it..."

"Hank?" Stone felt Hank's body suddenly get heavy as the injured man stumbled forward clumsily. "Hank, you still with me?" He stopped walking and put his other hand on Hank's other arm to hold the injured man steady.

"Yeah... Yeah, I just got a little... dizzy." He pressed a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. His words were beginning to slur. "Must've gotten up too fast."

"Uh-huh. Concussions tend to make you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Not to mention the rather impressive blood loss thanks to that nasty gash on the back of your head."

"Gash?" Hank suddenly remembered the bleeding wound on the back of his own head and put his hand near the wound. "Oh, right. Think it'll need stitches?"

Stone didn't like the way Hank was starting to sound. "More like sutures..." He pulled Hank's hand away from the injury site. "Hank, do you remember how you hit your head?"

"I, uh... fell? Didn't I?"

McConike saw Stone standing with his hands holding Hank steady and interjected. "Stone? Something wrong?"

"I'm not sure just yet. Looks like we can confirm the concussion, but right now I'm worried about possible memory impairment."

McConike took one of Hank's arms motioned for Stone to keep walking. "Well, let's get him over to the paramedics, let them look him over."

"Right, Chief." Stone took Hank's other arm. "Let's go Hank, you've been demoted from Captain to patient."

"But..." Hank was struggling to remember the events of the day through the heavy fog that was setting in. "What about my men?"

"They'll be fine." Stone encouraged sincerely. "You, on the other hand, are a different story."

* * *

 

Chet struggled to pull Marco upright from the debris littered floor of the hotel room. The explosion had sent Chet and Marco flying across the room; Chet landing on his leg in a painfully awkward position fracturing his ankle and Marco banging his head into the wall. The impact of the wall against his face mask had broken his nose, leaving his face covered in dark red blood.

Marco was laying on his side when Chet found him and used his gloved hands to beat away the approaching flames before they could burn the unconscious man. After finding Marco's pulse Chet began pulling Marco upright into a sitting position on the floor. "Marco, buddy? You with me?"

From beneath the fractured face mask and through his uncharacteristically nasally tone Marco mumbled something to Chet in Spanish.

"Marco? Hey, talk to me!"

"Chet...?" Marco's voice was muffled by the mask but Chet was able to understand him.

"Yeah, it's me. We need to move."

"*Dónde estamos? What happened?"

"Explosion from the basement." Chet answered with a calm inflection as he pulled Marco up to his feet, carefully balancing on his one good ankle in the process. "We need to get out of here."

Marco noticed Chet shifting his weight uncomfortably onto one leg, favoring one ankle over the other. "What happened to your leg?"

"Nothing, just twisted my ankle."

"**No me mientas. I don't believe you." Marco knew better than that, his experience as a firefighter gave him the insight to recognize an injury even when in denial. "You're hurt."

"Says the man with a bloodied nose."

"What?" Marco pressed his gloved hand to his face, then realized he was still wearing the mask. He slipped his hand under the mask and pressed it against his sore nose. Retracting his hand Marco noticed all the dark red blood that now stained his glove. "Ouch! I think it's broken."

"We'll get you cleaned up once we get outside." Chet reassured. "C'mon, let's go."

"Right." Marco put himself at Chet's side and helped support his weight by wrapping his own arm around Chet's side. "Lean on me, it'll be easier for you to walk."

"Thanks, let's get out of here!"

Walking out of the vacated, burnt, smoke filled room led the two firefighters into the smoldering hallway. The explosion rocked the entire building sending large portions of the floors, walls and ceiling in all directions. Drywall, plaster, wooden support beams, pipes, electrical wires and bits of glass littered the ground in a large array of debris.

It was a clumsy trek through the massive amounts of the destroyed interior structure of the hotel. Between Chet's fractured ankle and Marco's broken nose the trek was made all the more difficult. Chet could barely stand let alone walk on only one good leg, while Marco's head was beginning to throb from his broken nose. The smell of his own blood wasn't helping his impending headache, either.

"Chet, what floor are we on?"

"Can't remember?"

"Not really... Was it the fifth floor?"

"Fourth." Chet corrected. "Roy and Johnny were a few floors above us, and Mike was on the first floor. At least they were the last I knew."

"Did you try the radio?"

"No good." Chet showed Marco the smashed H.T. he had kept in his pocket. "I think my radio took most of the blast when I was sent flying."

Marco fumbled through his own coat pocket and pulled out his radio. Like Chet's it was smashed, a few wires hanging out of the plastic casing. But unlike Chet's it was also partially melted from the fire that came so close to burning him. "My radio is busted, too."

Reaching the end of the hallway the duo checked the door that led into the stairwell by using their hands to check for heat. No fire on the other side. Chet took a moment to rest his aching ankle. "You ready for this?"

"Let's do it."

Stepping into the stairwell Chet and Marco were greeted with even more debris and smoke that obstructed their only exit. It was much darker in the stairwell than it was in the hallway. The lights had been destroyed in the explosion, allowing the smoke to create an seemingly impenetrable wall of fog. Large pieces of broken, jagged support beams and wet logged drywall ensured that each step of the stairwell was its own hazard.

"Take your time Chet," Marco could feel his friend struggling to keep his balance as descended the steps. "I'm not going to go anywhere without you."

"I know Marco, I never had any doubt in my mind." Chet answered with a grin.

"Think the others are as beat up as we are?"

"Wouldn't be surprised. I bet a gas line beneath the building ruptured, and we all know how massive gas explosions can get."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"Hold it," Chet stopped short and leaned against the ash covered wall. "I need to rest, my ankle's killing me!"

"It's not just twisted, is it?"

"No..." Chet confessed slightly winded from the pain. "Pretty sure it's broken."

A heavy rhythmic thumping from higher up on the stairwell caught their attention. Both men stopped speaking and listened curiously to the somewhat familiar sound. "Chet, you hear that?"

"Yeah. It doesn't sound like structure collapse..."

"You're right, it sounds like... footsteps."

"Hello?" Chet called out to whomever was in the stairwell with them. "Can you hear me?"

"Chet?" Johnny answered breathlessly from a few feet above.

"Johnny! There you are! Where's Roy?" Chet had never been so relieved to hear Johnny's voice.

"With me." Johnny replied tiredly as he emerged from the smoke, standing behind Chet and Marco. "He's unconscious."

* * *

 

After securing the hotel front doors opened Mike returned to the stairwell to clear a path for his colleagues. The stairwell itself was the only means of traversing the hotel with the elevators out of commission, let alone too dangerous for use in a fire.

Massive portions of broken drywall and support beams filled the base of the stairwell, making it impossible for anyone to walk up or down the stairs. Grabbing ahold of the largest pieces of debris Mike began pulling the obstructing matter clear. Bit by bit the pile of broken beams, plaster, wires, glass and pipes were moved from the stairwell and onto an ever growing pile on the floor behind him.

The thick smoke that rolled through the stairwell was blinding and pungent. Unable to see how far the blockade extended Mike continued to use his hands to locate any pieces that he could unwedge and toss aside.

Embers and ash continued to rain down in an ethereal snow storm, swirling around the lone firefighter in a glowing fog.

Coughing Mike took a moment to rest, his lower back still aching from his initial fall from the explosion. Slipping up his face mask Mike wiped the drying, sticky blood from his face as well as the fresh layer of sweat. As soon as his face was exposed to the smoke his eyes stung from the acrid cloud of dark smoke and embers.

"Hey can anyone hear me?" He called out quickly before covering his face to take a fresh breath. Coughing once more he slipped off his mask and called again. "Chet, Roy, Marco, Johnny? Are you there?" Unable to stand the smoke any longer he slipped back on his mask and resumed clearing the pathway.

"Mike?" Chet had just barely managed to hear Mike's voice. "Mike? Where are you?"

"Right here!" Mike replied, yelling loudly so he wouldn't have to slip off his mask anymore. "At the base of the stairwell."

"You sound like your ten feet away. I can't see."

"Me neither. Are you alone?"

"No! Marco, Johnny and Roy are here, too."

"Anyone hurt?"

"Yeah." Chet admitted, knowing they were so close to the exit.

"How bad?"

"My ankle's broken and Roy's unconscious. Marco and Johnny are a little banged up, but nothing too serious. How about you?"

"Just a few bruises." Mike found a long jagged piece of a broken support beam laying diagonally across the stairwell. "I'll get the pathway cleared for you, just a little more to clear."

With Mike clearing away the debris at the bottom of the stairwell Marco began clearing away what debris he could from their position higher up on the stairwell.

Chet looked over at Johnny who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Even through the thick smoke and smudged face masks he could see that Johnny was exhausted and in pain. "Johnny, how're you holding up?"

"I'm okay, Chet. More worried about Roy. How's your ankle feel?"

"The ankle can wait, how's Roy? How long has he been out?"

"Don't know. He was out when I found him, and hasn't woken up since." Johnny let out a pained breath as he shifted his weight to keep Roy steady across his shoulders.

"You sure you're alright?" Chet knew that Johnny would never willingly admit to being injured or feeling ill, especially when Roy needed help. Some would argue that this was a weakness of character, others would say it was a strength.

"Yeah, just tired."

An ominous groaning sound from the top of the stairwell caught both Johnny and Chet's attention. The groaning sounded like wooden floor boards warping, ready to snap.

"Chet, did you hear that?"

"Yeah... Sounds about two floors up."

"Think we could get through the stairwell?"

Chet looked at the small opening that was still being created by Mike and Marco. "Maybe."

"I think we'll have to chance it."

"I think you're right." Chet put his hand on Marco's shoulder. "We need to get out of here, the floors above are going to collapse."

Marco nodded and stepped back, toward the wall.

Chet yelled down toward Mike. "Mike, we're going to get through the stairwell now, we're running out of time."

"Right, I'll guide you down."

Johnny slowly lowered Roy down to the floor and sat his unconscious partner against the wall. "Marco, Chet and I will help you get down the stairs. Then you and Mike can carry Roy down after you."

"Right, no problem." Marco understood Johnny's plan and acted accordingly.

Taking an awkward step forward Marco pressed his hand against the wall for guidance and felt Mike's gloved hand grab ahold of his other arm. Mike helped guide Marco over the layer of debris and onto the base of the stairwell.

"I'm through!" Marco called back to his awaiting colleagues.

"Good work, Marco!" Chet responded relieved. "We're going to lift up Roy and send him down to you, okay?"

"Okay, we're ready."

Johnny lifted Roy up from under his arms while Chet grabbed Roy's legs. Carefully the two firefighters worked together to carry Roy over to the thinned wall of debris and hand the unconscious man to the awaiting men below. Marco reached over the blockade and took ahold of Roy's legs while Mike supported Roy's shoulders.

"We've got him." Marco confirmed.

"Now get him out!" Johnny called. "We'll follow!"

Mike and Marco didn't want to leave either Johnny or Chet behind, but knew that Roy was their priority at the moment. "Okay, but move it!"

"Like always." Chet confirmed.

"Here Chet," Johnny stood over the blockade at an odd angle. "lean on me, step down."

The groaning continued.

"You don't have to tell me twice." Chet quipped as he used Johnny's shoulders as leverage to step over the blockade. "Alright, I'm over."

Johnny continued to focus on the sound of the groaning interior structure as it continued to weaken. The fire had warped the old floorboards, causing the support beams to weaken and strain under its own weight. The explosion from the ruptured gas line in the basement shook the entire foundation, which further destabilized the already unsteady structure. The earlier collapse in the stairwell indicated that the building was beyond salvage and total collapse was imminent.

"Johnny, I'm through." Chet held out his hand to Johnny to grab onto. "Let's go."

Without taking his eyes from the top of the ascending staircase, despite being unable to see through the smoke, Johnny reached for Chet's hand and prepared to make the climb over the blockade.

"Hold on..." Johnny was finally feeling the limitations brought on by the pain in his chest. The adrenaline was wearing off and exhaustion was setting in.

"You alright?" Chet knew something was wrong. "Johnny?"

"I'm okay. Just having a little trouble climbing up."

"Do you need-"

The haunting groaning from the weakened floors above grew louder as more embers and ash rained down from the stairwell.

"Chet, move!" Johnny warned as he made another desperate dive over the blockade and onto the base of the stairwell on the other side.

"Johnny?" Chet stepped back and watched as a mass of broken beams, plaster, drywall, wires and pipes fell from the ceiling into the stairwell where he and Johnny had been standing.

Starting from the roof and descending floor by floor, the hotel began collapsing in on itself. The sound of the floors and everything on the floors crashing into each other with building speed, momentum and weight gave a horribly loud commotion. Smoke plumed in thick dark clouds with each floor that gave way under its higher counterpart.

* * *

Mike and Marco had exited the hotel carrying Roy, who was still unconscious.

"Hank," Chief McConike saw the three men walking out of the hotel as the roof began its terrible interior collapse. "I see your men!"

Hank turned to look at the entrance of the hotel from the small triage center being run by paramedics Craig Brice and Bob Bellingham. A part of him was relieved to see the three men, but another part of him became twice as worried knowing that two of his men were still trapped inside the dangerous building.

The hotel's collapse shook the block as the massive structure caved in.

Mike and Marco managed to get clear of the shockwave that emanated from the building, which sent large bits of loosened debris flying in all direction.

The thundering collapse ended, leaving the surrounding buildings, vehicles and streets covered in a layer of ash and drywall.

"Mike? Marco? Roy?" Hank called out as the dust from the collapsed building began to settle. The dust cloud dissipated quickly with a strong breeze blowing through the streets.

"We're here, Cap..." Mike responded followed by a few coughs.

"What the hell happened to you?" Hank could see how rough his men looked; covered in smudges, smoke, soot and blood.

Marco spoke up. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

Hank saw Roy unconscious in their arms. "What happened to Roy?"

"Don't know." Marco continued as he and Mike laid Roy down on the yellow tarp next to their Captain. "Johnny said he was already unconscious when he found him."

Hank turned his attention back on the hotel. "What about Johnny and Chet? Where are they?"

"They were behind us." Marco's tone was flat and solemn. "But they were a little banged up, just like us."

"Chief, let me-"

"No, Hank. Sit here." McConike pointed at Bellingham. "Bellingham assist Captain Stone with the search for our two missing men."

Without a word Bellingham slipped on his turnout coat, which was laying on the ground next to their medical equipment. Captain Stone was already at the former entrance of the hotel sifting through the pile of dusted covered debris.

McConike motioned for Brice to assess Roy's condition. "Stoker, Lopez; why did we receive any response when we attempted to make contact with the H.T.?"

Both Mike and Marco pulled their broken H.T.'s from the turnout coat pockets as they kneeled on the tarp next to Roy and Hank. "We couldn't." Marco answered innocently. "No one could. That explosion was... pretty extreme."

Brice had begun checking on Roy's condition. "Lopez, Stoker, I would like to examine you as well. Please, remain here."

* * *

Coughing from the pungent, dust filled smoke that swirled around him, Chet opened his eyes and struggled to focus on his dark, enclosed surroundings. As the debris fell a number of broken beams lodged themselves with great force into the floor at odd angles, which caught and supported the larger portions of the collapsed building. Trapped under a small shell of debris Chet had been knocked unconscious by the rush of air that forced him and Johnny to the ground.

"Johnny?!" Chet suddenly remembered where he was and what was happening. He managed to look around the dark protective pocket of air. "Johnny, where are you?!"

His response came in the form a couple of dry coughs. "Chet...?"

"Johnny! Where are you?" Chet tried to sit up but his legs were trapped under a large support beam.

"Chet, I... I don't know." Johnny sounded tired, his words slurring as he spoke. "You sound close..."

"Are you hurt?"

"Aside from my preexisting bruises? No." He coughed again. "I'm stuck though, how about you?"

"Same. My legs are pinned." Chet struggled to move his legs but the heavy obstacle wouldn't budge. "Johnny, can you move at all?"

"No..." Johnny was sounding more and more tired.

"Johnny? Johnny, stay with me. Keep talking."

"Can't. Tired." Johnny felt his heavy eyes falling shut. His heart was strong but his body was weak. He no longer had the strength to stay conscious.

"Johnny? Johnny!"

Chet couldn't see where Johnny was laying in the dark air pocket that had sheltered them from the full force of the collapsing hotel. Struggling to look around, his legs pinned under an uncomfortably large and heavy support beam, Chet stretched out his arms to feel around his surroundings with his hands. The thick gloves protected his hands from the sharp, jagged, smoldering debris that entombed him and Johnny in the ruins.

"Johnny? Johnny! C'mon man, wake up. Don't fall asleep on me!"

Chet felt his hand brush against something that wasn't a part of the crumbled building. Reach back he realized he found the sleeve of Johnny's turnout coat. Straining his shoulder Chet got a firm grip on Johnny's arm and squeezed.

Johnny felt the pressure on his arm and roused slightly. Though awake he simply didn't have the strength to open his eyes. "Chet...?"

"Yeah, I'm here Johnny." Chet could still hear the slurring in Johnny's voice. "Just stay awake, we'll get out of here soon."

"I'm tired."

"So am I, but keep awake!" Chet squeezed Johnny's arm tighter. "Just a little longer!"

A loud knocking sound from the top of the protective pocket formed of fallen debris caught Chet's attention. The knocking continued then was followed by a familiar voice. "This is Captain Stone, can you hear me?"

Chet used his other hand to knock on the nearest portion of debris to answer. "Yeah! We're here!"

"Chet? Johnny?" Stone knocked once more.

"You're on top of us!"

"Okay, don't move! We'll dig you out!"

Chet turned his attention back to Johnny. "You hear that? They've found us."

"Yeah... I heard." Johnny was using every ounce of dwindling strength he had just to keep conscious. "I hope... Roy and the others... got out."

From atop of the debris pile Captain Stone and Bob Bellingham began carefully digging through the pile in attempt to locate the two missing men. Other firefighters converged on the pile and assisted in the search. Each man made precise movements as they lifted away the obstruction bit by bit, cautious not to disturb the pile in its entirety and accidentally cause it to cave in on the two trapped men.

Craig Brice continued to examine Roy's condition, as well as keeping an eye on Captain Hank Stanley, Marco Lopez and Mike Stoker. The four men had all been injured in the blast and required medical attention.

"Captain," Brice was watching the concussed man carefully. "perhaps you should lay down. You're looking pale."

"I'm alright," Hank insisted while pressing on the bandage that was wrapped around the massive gash on the back of his head. "how's Roy?"

"Not good." Brice answered bluntly but honestly. "Dislocated right shoulder, concussion, laceration to the forehead, possible broken ribs..." Brice had already made contact with Rampart and received instructions on proper treatment. "I need to start an I.V. and keep his head and neck steady with a C-collar."

Marco, who was watching Roy and silently saying a prayer for all of his downed colleagues, stood up and volunteered to get the C-collar. "I'll go get it, need anything else?"

"Yes," Brice understood that even though Marco wasn't a paramedic he had observed Johnny and Roy in action and could offer his hands. "I would also like to put him on a backboard. I'm certain that both Kelley and Gage will require backboards as well."

Marco nodded and Mike joined him. Of the six men from Station 51 injured their injuries were the least severe.

"Brice," Hank had worked with the world's 'perfect' paramedic enough to know when Brice was keeping something back. "tell me here and now. How bad is Roy?"

"Captain Stanley, he's in a coma." Brice hated to explain the situation to friends and family members, but respected Captain Stanley enough to make an exception to his personal grievance. "Aside from the injuries from the blast, his air supply was low."

Hank shut his eyes and felt a twinge of guilt wrack his buddy. "Damn it..."

At the site of the collapsed hotel a loud voice called out in an excited tone. "We found them!"

Hank opened his eyes and focused on the successful rescue. Marco had brought both the C-collar and backboard to Brice while Mike had taken two other backboards to the scene.

"Marco, are they...?"

"Si! They're alive Cap!" Marco answered with a grin, unfortunately the dried blood on his face rendered the gesture moot.

"Good..." Hank's guilt didn't wane but a sense of relief gave him a renewed sense of hope as he turned to his downed paramedic. "Hear that, Roy? They found your partner and our resident 'Phantom'."

"I'm going to assist the others an bring them over to here." Marco informed his Captain.

"Good work Marco."

As the daylight broke through the pile of debris Chet blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted to the light, his hand shielding his face from the small flecks of irritating ash that snowed down on him. "'Bout time!" He joked as he saw Mike leaning over the opening.

Captain Stone, the former paramedic, slipped down into the opening in the pile. He kneeled down next to the trapped firefighter while Bellingham entered the hole and located Johnny a few feet away.

Stone checked Chet's eyes, using the bright sunlight in loo of the traditional pen flashlight. "How's your head, any pain?"

"My head's fine, it's my ankle that's killing me!"

Stone proceeded to push the large support beam from Chet's legs. "Which one?" He asked as he ran his hands down Chet's legs looking for breaks.

"Ouch! Found it..." Chet grimaced.

"Sorry." Stone looked toward Beillingham. "How's Gage?"

Bellingham glanced at his senior colleague. "He's alive..."

Chief McConike continued to hover over the group of injured firefighters as he issued out the next orders for containing the scene of the fire. The hotel had collapsed due to the massive interior damage from the gas line explosion, which in turn trapped five firefighters who were clearing the floors of the hotel at the time of said explosion. Three firefighters, Roy DeSoto, Marco Lopez and Mike Stoker managed to escape the confines of the quickly deteriorating structure before its total collapse. The remaining two firefighters, Johnny Gage and Chet Kelley, were buried in the rubble.

Captain Hank Stanley watched with an uneasy pit in his stomach as firefighters from other houses in the county proceeded to dig through the rubble in attempt to locate and rescue his two missing men.

Station 8, Station 36, Station 10 and Station 45 were all at the scene. While Station 51's men began the sweep of the hotel to locate any person who may have been lagging behind or injured when the hotel was evacuated, the remaining stations began manning the hoses in an attempt to contain the fire from the outside as well from the inside. The call to vacate the building was issued, forcing the other stations to back off while 51 was still inside.

With the paramedic teams treating the evacuated patrons and employees of the hotel for smoke inhalation and minor burns, it left the field with a single paramedic team remaining. The team of Craig Brice and Bob Bellingham.

Brice was treating Roy's injuries while Bellingham was assisting in extracting both Johnny and Chet from the collapsed hotel.

Captain Stone had finished securing Chet to a backboard and assisted the other firefighters with lifting the injured man up and out of the hole in the debris pile. Looking over he could see Bellingham kneeling over Johnny with his hand pressed against the downed man's chest.

"Bob, is something wrong with Johnny?"

"He's having a hard time breathing. I can feel a few ribs giving away under my hand, but I'm not sure if any of the breaks have punctured his lung or not."

Stone looked at Johnny's pale face and sighed heavily. "Let's hope we don't have to intubate in the field."

"Right."

With Chet now safely extricated from hotel ruins the second backboard was slipped down into the hole for Johnny. Working together Stone and Bellingham carefully picked Johnny up from the ground and slid the backboard under his body. Securing the safety straps over Johnny's upper body and legs, the two men lifted the backboard from the dirty ground and toward the opening created by the responding firefighters.

"Let's get him out of here."

Hank stood up from the yellow tarp where he had been placed due to his own injury. From the small triage location he could see one man being lifted from the debris of the hotel on a backboard. "That's one..."

Marco was carrying one end of the backboard while a man from Station 45 was carrying the other.

"Good man Marco, never leaves a man behind."

An ambulance returned to the scene, ready to deliver Roy to Rampart General Hospital. The attendants exited the back of the vehicle and rolled a gurney toward Roy.

Brice looked down at Roy and looked back at the former site of the hotel where his own partner was still working to extricate Johnny He finally looked up at Hank, who had his gaze fixed on the scene in the distance. "Roy can't wait, we need to move now Captain Stanley."

Hank looked down at Roy's unusually pale, lifeless face and nodded. "I understand."

"And you're coming with him."

"What? No, I have to wait for-"

"Captain Stanley I must remind you that you are injured and require medical attention. Bellingham will treat Gage and Kelley."

McConike overheard Brice's little 'reminder' and intervened. "He's right Hank. You're no longer in any form of command here until you've been cleared by Rampart. I'll stay with your men."

Despite their differences and personal grievances with each other, both men still carried a great amount of respect toward one another.

"Hank, don't make me issue an order."

"Fine, I'll go." Hank reluctantly complied. "But I'm riding in back with Roy on the way to the hospital."

"Of course." Brice acknowledged, deciding to not remind the worried Captain that since he was a patient he was required to ride in the back of the ambulance anyway.

As Roy was loaded into the ambulance with Hank at his side, Chet was carried over and laid down on the yellow tarp.

Marco kneeled down next Chet, his headache now throbbing at full force thanks to his broken nose. "Hey Chet, how do you feel?"

"Like a crushed soda can," He slipped off his dirty, smudges face mask. "and I'm stuck to the bottom of someone's boot!"

"Is your ankle bothering you?"

"Nah, it's fine. I think the adrenaline has taken the edge off." Chet watched as Roy and Hank disappeared in the back of the ambulance. "How bad is Roy?"

Marco frowned and sighed a little. "Not doing too good, but he's alive. And he's strong. He'll pull through, no problem."

"Yeah, you're right."

Bellingham and Captain Stone walked over to the tarp with Johnny on the backboard.

"Johnny?" Chet asked for his friend. "You still with us, pal?"

Unable to speak or open his eyes, Johnny could only move his hand slightly to signify that he heard the question.

"Roy's already on the way to the hospital. With Brice."

Marco looked around and noticed Mike was curiously absent. "Hey, where'd Stoker get to?"

Stone answered. "He's assisting my men with equipment."

"Good ol' Stoker. Always a professional.

Bellingham began carefully examining Johnny's condition and injuries.  He slipped off Johnny's face mask as he began unfastening the snaps that held Johnny's turnout coat closed. Johnny himself was still struggling to breathe. Each breath was like a stabbing pain that burned throughout his entire chest.

"Easy Johnny, try to relax." Bellingham kept a calm, even tone as he worked. His reputation as 'The Animal' and resident department slob meant nothing in the field. Bellingham was just as capable, professional and efficient as Johnny, Roy and his own partner, Brice.

Chet and Marco watched as Bellingham opened the torn turnout coat, revealing a small stain of blood across Johnny's chest.

Instinctively Bellingham opened the blue uniform shirt and cut open the white t-shirt beneath to reveal the painful, bleeding injury. A large laceration, which was laying on top of an even larger bruise, stretched from Johnny's shoulder down and at an angle across his chest, stopping at the lowest portion of his rib cage.

Marco looked at the wound with both sympathy and empathy. "Johnny... *¿Por qué no dices nada?"

Johnny breathed as deeply as he could, trying to draw in a full breath, but the injury limited his every movement. Weakly he tried to clutch as his chest but Marco pulled his hand back.

"Easy Johnny. Don't move." Like Bellingham Marco kept his tone calm and even. "You're safe now. **"Gracias al Señor."

Bellingham took the small portable tank of oxygen that had been used to treat previous smoke inhalation victims and slipped the mask over Johnny's face. "Here, this'll help."

Johnny wanted to speak but still couldn't find the strength let alone find his voice. He subtly nodded his head to confirm he understood what Bellingham had said.

"Marco," Bellingham took the stethoscope from the drug kit and pressed the bell against Johnny's chest. "Can you please get Rampart on the line?"

"Yeah, no problem. I'll get the back up bio-phone." Brice had taken his squad's primary phone leaving the back-up phone behind.

Mike had rejoined the group on the yellow tarp, his lower back now screaming in pain. Kneeling down next to Chet, Mike checked in on his downed colleagues. "Hey Chet, how you doing?"

"Just fine. I don't even feel the pain anymore." Chet tried to smile as he lied. The pain was starting to return but he didn't want anyone taking their eyes off Johnny. "How about you? There's no way you managed to escape from that blast without a bruise or two."

"My back's a little sore, but nothing I can't deal with."

Marco returned with the bio-phone and set it up to make contact with Rampart. "Rampart this is Squad 45, do you copy?"

Bellingham listened to Johnny's chest closely as he made little notes in his notepad. Taking the small penlight from his shirt pocket he then began to check Johnny's eyes. "Johnny, you still with us?"

"Y-yeah..." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Good to hear. Can you tell me where you hurt?"

"M-my... chest. It feels like... it's burning."

"Well, we'll take care of that, no problem."

Marco handed the phone to Bellingham. "Rampart's on the line."

* * *

The ambulance ride to the hospital seemed to take hours instead of minutes. Hank watched his downed paramedic's slow, deep breaths and watched his steady heart rate on the monitor. His own head was throbbing from the explosion but he refused to admit the pain was beginning to affect him. The sound of the screeching siren overhead served only as a painful reminder to his own condition.

"Brice," Hank closed his eyes and breathed through a sharp pain from his mounting headache. "what's our E.T.A.?"

Brice looked down at his watch. "Approximately five minutes."

Never before had five minutes felt like an eternity. All the while, Hank studied Roy's condition.

Roy never roused from his state of unconsciousness. A heavy white bandage covered the nasty cut on his face while his right shoulder and arm were wrapped in heavy white bandages for support. His pale complexion and lack of awareness was enough to shake Hank to his core.

"Hold on Roy, just hold on." Hank began thinking of Roy's wife JoAnne, and their two children, Chris and Jenny. "We still need you at the station and your family still needs you at home."

Hank felt the ambulance slow as it turned into the emergency vehicle drive of the hospital. The large vehicle turned off the siren as it backed up toward the large automatic doors of the hospital's large doors. The back of the ambulance doors were pulled opened by two orderlies, along with Dixie McCall, and in the process blinding sunlight poured through the doors forcing Hank to shield his sensitive eyes from the painful light.

The orderlies lowered the gurney from the ambulance to the ground with Brice following. Hank slowly stood up from where he was sitting in the back, his head throbbing with every beat of his heart and his world beginning to spin.

Roy was wheeled into the hospital by the orderlies with Dixie telling them where to transport Roy. She saw Hank standing at the end of the ambulance with one hand over his eyes and the other pressed against the ambulance for support.

"Hank?" Dixie sensed something was wrong with the captain. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"No, you're not." Dixie's training as a nurse and priceless years of experience told her that something was wrong. "Come with me, sit down."

"I'm fine, I..." Hank trailed off as his face paled and his legs began to buckle.

"Hank!" Dixie supported the back of Hank's neck and head as he fell to the parking lot unconscious. "I need another gurney out here!"

Allowing Hank to rest against her lap as she kneeled in the parking lot, Dixie pressed her fingers to Hank's neck to count his pulse. Two orderlies wheeled a gurney out into the parking lot to the downed man and attending nurse.

"Watch his head." Dixie instructed as the two men lifted the unconscious man up from the ground and onto the gurney. "Take him into two."

Dr. Mike Morton, who had been assisting Dr. Joe Early with Roy's treatment in exam room one, was informed by another nurse about Hank's collapse. "Dixie, what happened to him?" Dr. Morton asked as he met the gurney in the hallway before it was wheeled into the designated room.

"The explosion at the hotel concussed him. He lost consciousness out in the parking lot."

Clicking on his penlight Dr. Morton checked Hank's eyes. "Move him into two." He followed the gurney and turned to Dixie in the doorway. "Could ask the technicians to wheel the x-ray over here when they've finished with Roy? I want a full skull series performed. Also I want a blood test to ensure nothing toxic was released during the explosion."

"Right away." Dixie acknowledged Dr. Morton's request as she stepped into exam room one. She saw Dr. Early leaning over the injured paramedic. "How's Roy?"

Dr. Early was listening to Roy's chest with his stethoscope. "He's holding his own, but still hasn't shown any signs of consciousness. What about Hank?" He took the stethoscope from his ears and let the device dangle casually around his neck.

"Don't know yet, but I checked his pulse before he was taken away and he's stable. Dr. Morton is with him."

Dr. Early looked at the x-ray tech who was awaiting instruction. "I want a full skull series, neck and spine. Also chest and shoulder." He looked over at Dixie. "Is it safe to presume Mike has orders for a skull series as well?"

"I don't think anyone could ever write a better prescription than you." Dixie smiled and nodded at the tech to confirm the instructions. "He also wants to run a blood test to check for any possible toxicity."

"Same here."

Exiting the exam room while the x-rays were being performed, Dr. Early and Dixie returned to the bay station where Dr. Kelly Brackett was on the line with Bellingham back at the scene of the hotel. "10-4 45, start one liter of oxygen and transport right away."

' _10-4_.' Bellingham acknowledged over the line.

Dr. Brackett turned to face his colleagues. "Joe, Dix, how are we doing?"

Dixie mentally went over their list of critical patients. "All smoke inhalation and burn victims have been treated. Those who needed admission have been taken care of, the other shave been released and have gone home. As for our firefighting friends, well, that's only just begun."

Dr. Early gave Dr. Brackett an uneasy glance as he answered with a weary sigh. "Roy's still unconscious and now Hank is, too."

"The Captain from 51?" Dr. Brackett asked as he crossed his arms. "What happened to him? Brice said he was stable."

Dixie spoke up. "He collapsed in the parking lot. Dr. Morton is taking care of him."

"Hm." Dr. Brackett didn't like it when firefighters or cops, let alone his paramedics, were injured in the line of duty. Sometimes he took it personally. "Is Brice still here?"

Dixie motioned toward the doctor's lounge. "He's in the lounge, no doubt restocking supplies."

"Thanks Dix. I want to talk with him, figure out what happened at the scene."

The x-ray technician left one exam room and entered the other.

"C'mon Dixie, let's check on Roy."

"I'll join you soon, Joe, I want to call JoAnne."

* * *

Bob Bellingham was watching Johnny like a hawk in the back of the ambulance. Chet was on his own smaller stretcher next to Johnny. Marco and Mike were also riding in the back, sitting on the bench next to Bellingham. It was always an unfortunate day when a fellow firefighter or paramedic took the role of the patient after a call, but having four firefighters in the back of one ambulance was almost a tragedy.

Johnny continued his struggle to breathe. The oxygen mask aided him greatly but the pain in his chest was too much. His ribs had been wrapped up to prevent infection to the large bleeding gash, as well as provide some form of support to the painful fractures that shifted with each breath. Dr. Brackett had ordered a small dose of morphine for the pain as well as a normal saline to ensure Johnny wasn't dehydrated from the fire.

The cardiac monitor beeped away with every beat of his heart, the sound nearly drowned out by the blaring siren from the ambulance itself.

Instinctively Johnny was watching the monitor, counting his own breaths and heart rate during the transport.

Bellingham put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "How do you feel? Is the pain bothering you?"

Johnny shook his head slightly. "No, I'm okay..."

Marco, Mike and Chet knew that Johnny was denying his pain, a bad habit that always reared its ugly head when he felt guilty or worried about someone else. That someone, as usual, was Roy.

"Johnny," Marco spoke up. "Roy's already at the hospital my friend. Stop worrying."

"Y-yeah..." Johnny's breath hitched as he began coughing a little.

Bellingham put both hands on Johnny's shoulders to try and hold the man steady until the coughing stopped. "Easy Johnny, deep breaths."

Johnny suddenly began coughing harder and wheezing, unable to catch his breath.

"Johnny?"

"I c-can't..." Johnny coughed even harder, his face paling and taking on a blue twinge.

"Hold on Johnny!" Bellingham encouraged. "Get Rampart back on the line, he's going into respiratory arrest."

* * *

 

Dr. Brackett found Brice sitting at the large circular table in the doctor's lounge meticulously restocking the drug box. "Brice?" He addressed the paramedic as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Hank collapsed in the parking lot a few minutes ago. Can you tell me anything that happened at the scene that may be affecting him?"

Brice looked up from the drug box to give the seasoned doctor his full attention. "When the explosion tore through the hotel Captain Stanley was outside of the building, approximately fifteen feet away, containing the scene. He was knocked back about ten feet and landed on his back, striking his head on the ground in the process."

"Was he wearing his helmet?" Dr. Brackett asked as took a sip of coffee.

"Yes, but the force of the explosion knocked his helmet loose."

"I see. How long was he unconscious, do you know?"

"Chief McConike was tending to him in less than a minute. From what I could see from the makeshift triage center, and from what I had been told by other firefighters who witnessed this incident, Chief has him awake and talking in about three minutes."

"No bleeding in the ears or the nose, only from the gash in the back of his head." Dr. Brackett wanted to confirm the initial examination.

"Correct." Brice folded his hands together. "He was suffering from an expected headache as well as bouts of dizziness. Chief made him sit down and rest before he lost consciousness and collapsed."

"Alright, thanks Brice. That should-"

Dixie opened the door to the doctor's lounge and focused on Dr. Brackett. "Kel, 45 is on the line, Johnny's gone in respiratory arrest."

Dr. Brackett hastily put his cup on the table and followed Dixie out of the lounge and to the bay station. Dr. Morton was on the line, speaking to Bellingham.

"Mike, what's going on?"

"From what Bellingham has stated Johnny's suffering from a collapsed lung."

"Tension pneumothorax?"

Mike nodded. "Sounds like it."

"Alright, thanks Mike. I'll take it from here, go check on Hank."

"Yeah," He handed Dr. Brackett the pad of paper with Johnny's vitals. "if you need me just ask."

"45; this is Rampart, give me update." Dr. Brackett opened the line again as he read the notes.

' _10-4 Rampart. No breath sounds on the right, cyanosis is present. Inserting endotracheal tube has been inserted_. _Victim's breathing has improved, cyanosis diminishing._ '

"10-4 45, what's your E.T.A.?"

' _E.T.A. is: five minutes_.'

"10-4, 45." Dr. Brackett turned to look at Dixie who was standing beside him. "Dix, I want a chest x-ray set up."

"I'll have exam room three ready."

"Thanks, I'll be with Joe examining Roy. Let me know as soon as they arrive."

"You got it, Kel."

* * *

Dr. Morton was looking over Hank's skull x-rays when the downed firefighter began to regain consciousness. The attending nurse informed the good doctor as she gently put her hands on Hank's shoulders to keep him from sitting up.

"Easy Hank, you have a pretty nasty bump."

"And headache to match..." Hank retorted as he pressed his hands to his eyes. "Can I get something for the pain?"

"Sure. Hank, do you know where you are?"

"Uh, last I knew I was... in the parking lot outside of the hospital. Right?"

"Right. Do you know where you are now?"

"Inside the hospital?"

"Right again." He clicked on his pen flashlight. "Open your eyes, I want to check your pupils."

Hank obeyed the request and did his best not to shut his eyes again because of the painfully bright light.

"Hank, you have a mild concussion and need to take it easy. Now, you've managed to avoid any fractures to your skull but head injuries are serious nonetheless. After I close the laceration on the back of your head I'm ordering you to a full week of bed rest."

"A full week? Isn't that a little-"

"I should make it two, but I get the feeling the department is going to do that anyway."

"Great..." Hank hated being sick, let alone the 'patient'. "How're my men? Roy, Johnny, Mike, Marco and Chet?"

"Well, Roy is across the hall with Dr. Early, I'll go ask for an update if you'd like."

"Please. But, what about the others?"

"From what I've been told by Brice and Bellingham Chet has a break in his left ankle, Marco has a broken nose and Mike has a bruised and scraped up back."

"And Johnny?"

Dr. Morton sighed and put his hand on Hank's shoulder. "I'm not going to lie to you and I'm now going to sugar coat it, I respect you too much. Johnny has gone in respiratory arrest. All signs point to a collapsed lung."

Hank closed his eyes and turned away. "That poor guy just can't seem to get out of the way of danger..."

"That's his job though, isn't it?"

"I guess so, but he shouldn't be the one who always gets knocked down or blown up or-"

"Hank, take it easy. I've seen Johnny recover from some pretty nasty injuries, but not once I have I seen him break stride or lose any confidence. He loves what he does for a living."

"Yeah..." Hank swallowed the sicking sense of guilt welling up in his stomach. "Could you go check on Roy, please?"

"Yeah. Nurse give him some aspirin from the pain and clean the laceration, prepare for sutures."

"Yes doctor."

Walking out of the exam room and crossing the hall to where Roy was being treated, Dr. Morton caught a glance of Johnny being wheeled in on the gurney.

"Joe, how's Roy?"

"Still unconscious." His answer was solemn.

"Well, Johnny was just wheeled in. I think he might be in trouble."

Dr. Brackett, who had taken the liberty of setting up a tray in the exam room before Johnny even arrived, kneeled over Johnny and listened to his chest; running the bell of the stethoscope from one side of his chest to the other. Bellingham was pumping air manually while a Dixie prepared the respirator to keep Johnny breathing.

Marco had followed the gurney and assisted in transporting Johnny from the gurney to the exam table.

"Dixie prepare to insert a chest tube." Dr. Brackett swung his stethoscope around his neck. "And prepare an O.R., we need to get his lung re-inflated."

"Right away, Kel."

Marco watched in stunned silence at the scene unfolding before him. He was a firefighter, not a paramedic. Seeing the emergency medical procedures in the raw was something he wasn't accustomed to witnessing.

"Marco," Dixie could feel his tension. "I've already called JoAnne, she'll need someone to talk to."

"Oh, okay. I'll go..." He looked at Johnny's sickly pale and cyanotic complexion once last time. "I'll go wait for her."

As the prepared tray was wheeled over to Dr. Brackett he took the time to acknowledge Dixie's grace in the face of tragedy. "Thanks Dixie, that was the perfect solution."

Dixie began cutting away the rest of Johnny's white t-shirt, fully exposing his bandaged chest. Fortunately for her Bellingham and Mike had slipped Johnny's thick turnout coat from his body before loading him into the ambulance. Carefully she cut away the white fabric of the bandages to reveal the laceration and bruise that accompanied the rib fractures and collapsed lung.

Dr. Brackett took a swab of iodine and disinfected the side of Johnny's rib cage. "I'm glad he's unconscious for this part."

* * *

Dr. Early was examining the various x-rays taken of Roy's skull, neck and spine with Dr. Morton at his side. "Look at that Mike," he pointed to a small dark imperfection on one of the skull x-rays. "hairline fracture of the occipital bone."

Dr. Morton shook his head. "I guess all things considered it could be alot worse."

"Yeah, I just wish I knew exactly what happened. His injuries are consistent with a fall but until he wakes up and tells us what happened..."

"Is there any sign of intracranial hemorrhage?"

"No, fortunately. Blood pressure and respiration are all normal. I will need a little help popping his shoulder back into place. Care to join me doctor?"

"Of course." Dr. Morton unwrapped Roy's shoulder while Dr. Early studied the x-ray of the injured shoulder. The two men prepared to remedy the dislocated shoulder by the only means deemed proper: Pulling. "I'm glad he's unconscious for this part."

* * *

Marco and Mike were in the waiting room anxiously awaiting an update on their downed colleagues. Neither of them knew what was happening with Roy and they hadn't seen their Captain.

Chet had been wheeled in an exam room of his own where an orthopedic surgeon had volunteered to assist with the many victims of that day's fire. Fortunately for Chet this doctor had a soft spot for firefighters.

Bellingham had rejoined with his partner Brice in the doctor's lounge and now the two men were approaching the waiting room with their restocked drug box in hand. Brice greeted the two waiting firefighters. "Stoker, Lopez, how are the others?"

Mike just shook his head while Marco answered in a somber tone. "We don't know."

Brice offered an unexpected sympathetic gesture. "Doctors Brackett, Early and Morton are three of the best doctors in the county. They'll pull through but you have to be patient. And I know it's difficult to play the waiting game."

"Yeah, thanks Brice."

"If you need anything call the station, Bob and I will be happy to help."

"Thanks again, Brice."

From behind the paramedic duo Mike spotted JoAnne walking into the hospital. He nudged Marco's arm.

"JoAnne," Marco approached the worried woman, a dear friend to the fire department and beloved family member to the station. "Roy's being examined right now." He took her hands and walked her to a seat in the waiting room. "He's unconscious but he's stable."

Brice and Bellingham discreetly and quietly left the hospital, knowing that with all of Station 51 incapacitated that the other stations would be required to fill in until replacements arrived.

Marco and Mike sat on either side of JoAnne in the waiting room, no one saying a word. What could they say? It was always bad enough when one man was injured in a fire, but that day the entire station was affected.

Dixie walked out of the exam room room where Johnny was being treated and spied the silent trio sitting together in the waiting room. She wanted desperately to sit down and explain everything to everyone but she herself didn't have all the answers. Not yet. But soon. Waiting could be just as much an ordeal for the doctors and nurses as it was for the friends and family of the patients being treated.

Chet walked out of his own exam room, although be it on crutches and with a little help from a nurse, and hobbled toward Dixie who was sitting behind her desk in the bay station. "Hey Dixie, how are the guys?"

Dixie looked up at Chet and forced herself to grin. "Still hanging on. How's your ankle?"

"Fractured in three places. What about Marco and Mike? They got banged up, too."

"Then I'll have them checked out in exam room four. Meanwhile, could you..."

"You don't even have to ask, of course I'll stay with JoAnne."

"You're a pussycat." She teased.

Chet appreciated her kind ribbing. "I prefer 'Phantom', but pussycat isn't bad. Where's Cap?"

"He's in exam room two. He collapsed earlier."

Chet sat in chair in the waiting room next to JoAnne. Awkwardly and carefully he put his still splinted ankle up on the chair across from him. With the hospital being overwhelmed with the victims of the hotel fire Chet hadn't yet had the opportunity to get his ankle set in a proper cast. "JoAnne, do you need anything?"

"No, Chet. I'm fine. Just worried about Roy."

Chet gently put his hand on JoAnne's arm. "He'll be fine. He and Johnny are pretty much indestructible."

"Thanks Chet." JoAnne tried to calm herself by remembering all the times that both Roy and Johnny had been injured on the job and still managed to get back up after a full recovery. "Was, was anyone else hurt in the fire?"

"Yeah, they were." Chet answered honestly but calmly. "Aside from Roy and Johnny and my ankle, Cap has a head injury while Mike and Marco over there got pretty beat up, too."

Dixie walked into the waiting room and put her hands on Mike and Marco's shoulders. "Speaking of which, you two need to come with me."

"But-"

"No 'buts'," she stopped Marco before he even had the chance to protest. "doctors orders."

Mike nodded. "Come on, we can't do anything anymore, but wait."

Dixie escorted the two wounded and tired firefighters to exam room four, where Dr. Early would examine them after taking care of Roy.

* * *

In exam room two Hank was sitting upright, though a little hunched, as Dr. Morton finished putting in the sutures to the painful laceration in the back of his head.

"There we are." Dr. Morton announced as he pressed a clean wad of gauze against the freshly closed wound to mop up any excess blood. "Twelve sutures."

Hank sat up straighter, moving slowly as to not upset his lingering headache. "Thanks Doc. How're the others?"

"Still being taken care of. I think JoAnne is out in the waiting room."

"Poor JoAnne..." His heart went out to the incredibly patient and compassionate woman. It made him think of his own wife. "Maybe I should call-"

"Dixie has already called your wife, as well."

"She did?" Hank was genuinely surprised. "Wow..."

"Dixie's very thorough when it comes to taking care of her patients."

"'Her' patients? I thought we were your patients."

"Nah," Dr. Morton grinned. "we may treat the wounds and diagnose the illnesses, but it's Dixie who really takes care of everyone."

Hank took his time climbing off the exam table, not wanting to pass out again. "I'm going to go sit in the waiting room, is that alright?"

"Just fine. But don't leave. Dr. Early and I agree that you should stay one night for observation."

"Over a little cut?"

"Over your not-so-little _concussion_." Dr. Morton corrected. "Take it easy, your men are in good hands."

* * *

Dr. Brackett was listening to Johnny's chest once more with his stethoscope. Dixie walked into the exam room to give him an update on what was happening with his other numerous patients. "Kel, JoAnne is in the waiting room if you or Joe want to talk with her."

"Thanks Dix." He sighed feeling distraught as he put his stethoscope aside and took out his pen flashlight to check Johnny's eyes. "Anything else?"

"Well, Mike sutured Captain Stanley's cranial laceration, Chet Kelley's ankle is fractured in three places and right now Joe is checking on the other two injured firefighters in exam room four."

"It's been one hell of day, hasn't it?" He clicked off his flashlight. "That goes for all of us."

"How is Johnny?" Dixie asked sincerely as she walked up the exam table and looked down at the injured paramedic. She put her hand on his hand and squeezed a little in a sympathetic manner.

"Stubborn, as usual."

"That's a good sign, then."

"Yeah." Dr. Brackett crossed his arms and shook his head. "I don't know how he managed to do it. How does someone keep moving through a burning building with six fractured ribs?"

"Adrenaline?" Dixie offered casually. "Of course Roy was injured, too, I imagine having your best friend's life on the line would be a great motivator to get back up."

Dr. Brackett smiled at Dixie. "I think you solved it. Makes me glad we work in a hospital and not in a fire station."

Dixie laughed a little. "Now don't try and tell me you never imagined yourself driving a fire truck when you were a kid."

"Maybe once or twice." Dr. Brackett noted the time on his watch. "I'm going to go check on Roy, keep me posted on Johnny."

* * *

Marco sat on the exam table in exam room four and patiently waited for Dr. Early to finish examining his nose. It was still very sore and a little swollen. Fortunately the bleeding had long since stopped, but his eyes were still a little watery from the pain.

"This is going to be uncomfortable, but I have to make sure the bridge of your nose is straightened." Dr. Early put his thumbs on either side of Marco's nose. "Are you ready?"

"No, but do it anyway."

"Okay..." With a quick and controlled motion Dr. Early realigned Marco's nose and took his hands away. "There, that should do it."

Marco shook his head a little as the pain flared up then settled. "Ouch... Thanks doc. I think."

"Nurse," Dr. Early addressed Nurse Sharon Walters who was assisting him. "could you bring him an ice pack?"

"Yes, doctor." The young nurse left the room with a little smile on her face.

Dr. Early focused his attention on Mike. "Now, let's take a look at your back."

Mike unbuttoned his blue uniform shirt then slipped off his relatively dirty white t-shirt as he sat down.

"Tell me everything that happened after you were knocked down."

* * *

 

"Aside from these bruises and a few scrapes I think you're going to be just fine Mike." Dr. Early finished examining Mike's back and was satisfied and relieved that there was no sign of serious internal or spinal injury. "If you have any pain I recommend a couple aspirin and an ice pack."

"Thanks Doc." Mike slipped his shirts back on, also relieved to know he didn't suffer an serious injury in the blast. "What about Roy and Johnny?"

"Well, Johnny had to have a chest tube inserted to reinflate a collapsed lung. He's still on the respirator but his vitals are all stable and there's no sign that his lung had been punctured." Dr. Early sighed a little as he prepared to talk about Roy. "As for Roy, he's still unconscious and has a hairline fracture to his occipital bone, that's here;" He motioned with his hand. "on the back of the skull."

"Is he... When will he wake up?"

"I don't know. Soon, I think. Like Johnny his vitals are all stable, but there just hasn't been any sign of consciousness. Yet."

Marco began silently praying for his downed colleagues.

"Do either of you know what happened to Roy?"

Mike shook his head. "No."

Marco didn't know either but he wanted to let Dr. Early know what he saw. "I didn't see what happened to Roy, how he got injured, but Johnny was carrying him over his shoulder down the stairwell. Whatever happened Roy was unconscious before we were reunited in the hotel."

"Hm, sounds like I should be asking Johnny about Roy."

"But... can he answer?"

"Doubt it. But I have to try." Dr. Early held the door open for the two patched up firefighters. "Why don't you two go take it easy out in the waiting room. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Yeah, good idea. Thanks Doc."

Mike and Marco walked out of the exam room and into the waiting room where JoAnne was sitting, now with Captain Stanley.

"Cap, you okay?" Mike asked sincerely as he took the seat next to his commanding officer.

"I'm fine. A bump on the head and a few stitches. How about you?"

"A few bruises. Marco here broke his nose in the explosion."

"Yeah," Marco gingerly put his hand to his sore nose. "my eyes are still watering!"

Hank laughed a little. "Well, Chet was just wheeled off to get his broken ankle set in a cast. Now we're waiting for an update on Roy and Johnny."

"Same."

Mike spoke up. "Anybody want some coffee?"

"Good idea, Mike." Hank liked that idea very much. "I think we could all use a little pick-me-up."

* * *

"Johnny? Can you hear me?" Dr. Early was leaning over the resting paramedic still laying on the exam table. "Open your eyes, please."

Dixie had been keeping an eye on Johnny. She had been observing carefully Johnny, knowing that the injured paramedic had an unfortunate susceptibility for respiratory infections. Standing next to Dr. Early she watched eagerly for Johnny to wake up.

Slowly Johnny's dark brown eyes fluttered open. It took him a few seconds but he finally focused on Dr. Early's face and became alert. He tried to speak but Dixie calmly stopped him. "No, no. Don't try to say anything. You have a tube down your throat."

Johnny's hands instinctively reached for the tube, as a result Dixie gently grabbed his hands. "No, don't do that, either. You know better."

Dr. Early put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "Johnny, if you can understand what I'm saying, blink."

Johnny blinked once and kept his focus on Dr. Early.

"Good. Johnny, do you know what happened to Roy in the fire? Do you know how he became injured?"

Johny blinked again.

"Good. Was he caught in the blast."

Johnny didn't blink, instead he slightly shook his head 'no'.

"Was he hit by debris or falling beams?"

Again, Johnny didn't blink.

"Was he thrown against a wall or onto the floor?"

Still 'no'.

"Did he fall?"

Johnny blinked and squeezed Dixie's hands tightly, to ensure they understood his answer.

"He _did_ fall. Okay. How far? Did he fall down the stairs?"

No.

"What about... Did you he fall _through_ the floor?"

Yes.

"And when he landed, he land on his _back_ , right?"

Yes.

"Okay Johnny, that helps. Based on Roy's injuries and what you've told me he's suffering from a grade 3 concussion. He's still unconscious but he IS stable."

Johnny closed his eyes, glad to know Roy was still alive and being treated.

"Now, I need you to rest. Dr. Brackett will be back shortly. We'd like to get you off the respirator as soon as possible, but you've suffered six fracture ribs. We don't want your lung to collapse again. Alright?"

Johnny opened his eyes just long enough to blink and answer 'yes'.

"Take it easy. I'll see you later."

Dixie could feel the guilt that was needlessly filling Johnny's heart. "Johnny, don't do that to yourself. You couldn't have done any more for him than anyone else."

Johnny still felt guilty.

Dixie took a cool damp cloth and ran it over his face gently. "You found Roy, you picked him up and carried him to safety, all the while you were suffering injuries of your own. The fact that you were even able to pick him up at all is incredible."

Johnny locked his brown eyes onto her blue eyes.

"Let me ask you something. If your roles had been reversed, if you had fallen through the floor and Roy had to carry you to safety, would you let him blame himself for what happened?"

Johnny shook his head 'no'.

"Exactly. Everything will be fine, trust me."

Johnny blinked once more.

* * *

 

Roy had been taken from the exam room and set up in intensive care until he regained consciousness. Though pale and seemingly lifeless, Roy's heart was still beating strong and he was able to breathe without any assistance. JoAnne was sitting by his bedside holding his hand, and waiting.

Dixie walked into the room and smiled at the anxious wife. "Hi, JoAnne."

JoAnne turned in her chair and looked at the kindhearted nurse. "Hello, Ms. McCall."

"Please, call me Dixie. We're all friends here, right?"

"Right." JoAnne blushed a little, realizing how close the fire house and hospital staff had become as allies in the field.

"And I have a friend who'd like to visit."

Opening the door wide Johnny was wheeled into the room in a small wheelchair by an orderly. "Hey, JoAnne." His voice was hoarse and scratchy from having the tube down his throat and being in so much smoke and dust. "How's Roy?"

JoAnne smiled at the always selfless paramedic as he was wheeled next to Roy's bed. "Still out. But, he's not going anywhere."

Johnny sighed, flinching at the burning pain in the side of his rib cage from the fractures and the site of the now removed chest tube. "Neither am I."

From the bed Roy slowly stirred, his glassy blue eyes opening slowly.

"Roy?" JoAnne squeezed his hand.

Dixie instinctively checked Roy's eyes with her own penlight. "He's waking up. I'm going to find Dr. Early."

Johnny patted Roy's shoulder. "That's it Roy, wake up."

Roy glanced around the room with a blank look on his face and vacancy in his eyes. The environment was familiar but he had no memory of how he came to be admitted to the room. The pain in his head from the concussion and fracture was distracting him from focusing on his bearings.

JoAnne put her hand on the side of Roy's face and called his name. "Roy? Roy, can hear me? Do you know who I am?"

"J-JoAnne?" Roy asked, his words lightly slurred and heavy with fatigue.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Wh... What happened?"

Johnny answered flatly on her behalf. "You fell through the floor. Which meant I had to carry you out of the building."

Roy turned and looked at Johnny, absolutely confused. "Are... you okay?"

"Just a few bruises and a few more fractures. Nothing new."

Roy laughed a little. "Sad but true..."

Dr. Early walked into the room with Dixie at his side. "Roy? Welcome back. You've been out for almost six hours."

Roy blinked a few times and looked back to JoAnne. "Really?"

JoAnne nodded.

"H-how bad is it?"

Dr. Early answered. "You, my firefighting friend, suffered a grade 3 concussion and a hairline fracture to the skull. As you might well imagine, this is going to sideline you for a few weeks."

"That's okay... At the rate this headache is raging, I'm going to need as much time off as I can get..."

Dr. Early checked Roy's eyes for himself. "You're slurring your words a little. Aside from the headache are you feeling any other symptoms? Nausea, fatigue, dizziness?"

"Um," Roy was struggling to piece together the day's events. "my ears are ringing a little, and... and I can't remember what happened."

"That's to be expected." Dr. Early replied in a reassuring tone. "I doubt you'll ever remember falling through the floor. Do you remember the fire?"

"What fire?"

Johnny sighed again. "Sounds like a 'no', to me."

"Johnny," Roy turned his head to look at his partner. "we were in a fire?"

"Yeah. Hotel fire."

"Did... did anyone else get hurt?"

Johnny couldn't help but grin. "This is going to be a long... weird story. I'll tell you when you're feeling better."

* * *

After six long, uneventful weeks of rest and recovery the A-shift of Station 51 returned to their house, feeling refreshed and renewed. One by one each man entered the locker room and changed into their uniforms.

"Good mornin'!" Johnny greeted his colleagues with his usual cheesy grin. "How are we all feeling this fine day?"

Roy shook his head, bemused by Johnny's upbeat attitude. "Just fine. I take it your date went well?"

"Correction, my three dates went well. Thank you very much."

"Three? With the same... girl?"

"Of course! What kind of guy do you think I am? Besides, it takes a long time to win over someone as sophisticated as Renee."

Chet walked into the locker room, hearing the end of Johnny's boast. "Renee? You mean the new nurse at St. Francis General?"

Johnny gave Chet a wicked smile. "The same!"

"Some guys have all the luck!"

"Luck nothing! It's all about charm. So guys have it, some guys don't."

"Anyway..." Roy changed the subject. "how's your ankle feel, Chet?"

"Not bad. A little sore but I can put my full weight on it and walk around without any problems."

"Good to hear."

"How's your head?"

"Well," Roy buttoned up his uniform shirt. "I still can't remember the fire but that annoying ringing finally stopped."

Johnny sat on the bench and began tying his shoe. "I didn't have ringing in my ears, but I did have a seriously itchy set a of stitches across my chest."

Chet had a rebuttal. "Not as bad as having an itchy cast all over my foot."

Marco walked into the locker room. "Are we comparing injuries? Because having a broken nose and visiting relatives in a high pollen area isn't fun!"

Mike and Hank followed. Hank addressed his men casually. "Good morning gentleman. It's nice to see everyone back where they belong."

Roy agreed. "You have no idea, Cap. Can't imagine being anywhere else, right now."

_**-The End** _


End file.
